I bought The Hunger Games trilogy for my kindle fire. I am highly impressed, the books were outstanding. I actually read them in 5 days of reading. I couldn’t put my kindle down once I started reading. All the way until the end I was enthralled with the books. Then I got towards the end of the final book Mockingjay, and it got bad. The book was amazing, yet there was a part near the end that got to me in ways I never expected a work of fiction to be able to do. If you haven’t read the book this will be a minor spoiler, feel free to stop reading this post until after you read the book.
There came a point in the book where president Snow was using children as a human shield. A hover craft appeared over the children and dropped silver parachutes in to the pen where the children were being held. Attached to the parachutes were bombs, some of which exploded among the children. When the medics ran in to help the children the rest of the bombs exploded killing the medics. Either one of these scenarios bring back bad memories, both together were very hard.
The first thing was the children. The bombing of the children. My first tour in Iraq I helped rebuild a school, and I actually helped by hand with hammers, nails, paint, really building the school. In the weeks leading up to finishing the building we played soccer with the kids who would eventually go to the school. There was one little kid named Mohammed, he was about 6 or 7 years old, he spoke very little English,and what he did speak was broken. A few days before the school was to open there was a midnight note put on the door that warned the locals of sending their kids to school. We searched the school and found nothing out-of-place, we placed Iraqi Army as guards and made sure they knew no one other than the workers and us went in the school. The day came to open the school, we showed up and handed out school supplies, pencils, books, rulers and such. Every one from the city and surrounding village were there, the city mayor was on hand, we were having a real ribbon cutting, it was quite an event. Mohammed came up to me as we were about to leave and in his broken English thanked me for letting him go to school. We said our goodbyes and left. Thirty seconds later the school exploded. Dozens of children were killed. I found Mohammed’s slippers, that’s all I found of him. I know some one in that city or the villages near it knew something, but no one said anything. Their children lay dead and they said nothing to bring those who murdered them to justice. Me and my team how ever brought the wrath of God down on that area, we kicked in every door and arrested every military aged male, and any female that gave us a problem. Any one that fought got dealt with. That day had to be the worst day of my life.
I never thought a book would bring that back. I tried to bury that memory, but apparently it wasn’t buried deep enough. It’s going to take a long time to get over that, if I ever get over it. I do however fear getting over it, because how much of a human am I if stop getting bothered by the senseless murder of children? It kills me inside seeing the hate and violence adults do to each other Some of the torture and dismemberment and maiming I have seen done to adults was horrendous. But the children, they haven’t done anything, they are supposed to be loved, and cherished, not abused, hurt, or murder. And for the parents to sit back and watch it and do nothing. When are we as humans going to get past all this senseless violence?